


Amuse Me

by lokasbarn



Series: "X" Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokasbarn/pseuds/lokasbarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An even smaller snippet in Meg and Cas's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amuse Me

Eight paint cans are lined up along the wall, in ROYGBIV order. Cas has been sitting cross-legged on the floor for...

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“I think it’s going to be ten hours, soon.”

Meg raises an eyebrow and looks from the back of Cas’s head to the pink wall, and back again.

“Why don’t you just paint a bee on it?”

“I want to use all the colors.”

“Make it a rainbow bee.”

He turns his head so she is barely in his line of sight, grumbles that if she isn’t going to help she can leave, and goes back to staring.

“A rainbee.”

“Meg.”

There’s a wall clock that hangs above the doorway. It ticks too slowly, and every so often all the hands do this weird thing where they all zoom around the face until they’re in the right spots. It weirds her out whether she can see it or not, and since she’s standing in the door she hears when the gears start clicking.

“A bumblebow.”

“Weren’t you bringing lunch?”

Meg rolls her eyes but goes over to sit with him. She crosses her legs too, slumps forwards so her elbows are resting on her legs, and her chin is cupped in her hands. Lunch is indeed waiting for them in the dining room, but Cas didn’t look like he was moving anytime soon when she came in to check on him, so she didn’t mention it.

“Where did you go this time?”

“Place called Eat-A-Pita. Huge menu. Brought you a chicken sandwich.”

Colour ordered the cans may be, but she looks at the labels and they are not the staple colors of a Crayola box. There is a can of white, a deeper pink, a bright orange, a light gold, a foamy sea-green color and three different shades of purple. One of those might be indigo, actually.

“Kind of a limited color palette.”

“They were the colors that spoke to me.”

“I wasn’t judging you, Pollock.”

Cas doesn’t say anything else and neither does Meg. The silence creeps on for a while, but unlike their normal pauses this feels loaded.

‘Artists,’ she thinks before standing up and clipping Cas’s shoulder as she leaves.

_-_-_

Cas has his legs tangled with Meg’s and his face buried at the hollow of her throat. She’s been stroking his hair, twisting and tugging it. It isn’t strictly a bedtime ritual; these petting and snuggling sessions happen every so often all over the house, but he sleeps better if they indulge in bed.

“Do a self portrait.”

“In the living room?” Cas’s lips drag across her collarbone and she stifles a giggle by twisting her fingers into the curls behind his ear.

“It’s already pink. A portrait of you couldn’t make it worse.”

Cas remembers their week-long feud over which rooms would be painted which color. Meg really wanted to have thick grey and purple stripes, but he won seven out of twelve games of checkers and it became pink. He surrendered the bathroom and kitchen to her, and they did the bedroom together.

Cas snorts and says, “I can’t tell if that was a backhanded compliment or a direct insult.”

_-_-_

“That’s not going to come out.”

“Without hard work?”

Meg shakes her head and arranges Cas sweater so it lays neatly again. ”At all.”

Cas contorts until he can see the big purple splotch on the lower hem of his sweater. It’s his “bumblebee sweater”, as Meg dubbed it- thick black and yellow stripes that annoy the ever loving shit out of anyone who tries to look at him for too long. “I don’t know how it got there.”

Meg suspects if she inspects the wall there’ll be a spot somewhere dotted with yellow fibers. He probably bumped into it when wetting his brush. It hardly matters in the end, since literally nothing will stop him from wearing this thing happily. She leaves him to his fussing and steps back, absorbing his work.

“Were you made of stars?”

“Not quite. Similar.” Cas frowns at the stain one more time before joining her. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she sees his shoulders drop. He’s not... upset, she thinks, but he isn’t happy.

“You sure are something, Cas.”

“This is a poor imitation. If I could truly capture my true visage we’d both be blind.”

“Whatever, it’s good. You’re good.”

Meg remembers trying to keep him supplied with crayons in the hospital. He drew so much, and his work was amazing. Mostly small scale stuff, drawing on the walls in corners where it wouldn’t be spotted when Meg couldn’t get him paper fast enough.

“I think it’s missing something.”

_-_-_

“Very nice work, Meg.”

Cas plonks a mug of coffee down between her and her laptop.

“Oh, yeah. Vastly improved in my opinion.”

“You truly captured the spirit of the worker bee-”

“It’s a queen bee.”

She pretends not to notice him smirking at her. His lips are mostly hidden by his mug, so she focuses on her screen and takes a sip from her own.

“We’ll have to move the loveseat so its visible.”


End file.
